


Promises, Promises

by HarlequinAdventures (DeducingLoki)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: F/M, Therapy Session, i don't know how to tag, maybe continue maybe not, one shot for now, relationship early days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 06:03:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16320503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeducingLoki/pseuds/HarlequinAdventures
Summary: Dr. Harleen Quinzel can't decide what to do with her head and her heart- they keep telling her different things. But one session in particular with her favourite patient may finally make the decision for her.Rated M due to implications and brief descriptions of rape/sexual assault at a young age- also Mr. J says a very bad naughty word. Please proceed with caution.





	Promises, Promises

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly just a creative exercise; I want to write a large JxHQ fic but can't seem to shake writer's block! Here's hoping this little one-shot might give me the boost I need. This currently stands as a one shot but I may develop it in time.
> 
> Any feedback is welcome and encouraged. Please let me know what you like/dislike and if you'd like to see more.
> 
> All character interpretations based on Batman: The Animated Series and the Arkham games.

Dr Harleen Quinzel wasn’t sure how it had happened, not really. She wasn’t even certain she could stop it either. The infatuation had taken hold so quickly, it was almost like it had been with her for her whole life. Maybe it was how unconventionally handsome it was. Maybe it was because his dominant personality appealed to her inner submissive. Maybe it was because he always told her what she wanted to hear, and even though she knew they were likely lies, she didn’t care. He had gone to the effort of lying to her even though he didn’t have to at all. That’s love, right?

She’d internally chastise herself for being a ‘textbook case’, acting like a dopey, lovestruck teenager with a deathwish. Why else would she choose The Joker, of all people, to be the object of her desire?

The internal battle raged on as she stepped into her office. She raised an eyebrow when she spotted a single rose laid across her desk, a note attached to it. By now, after eight months of treating him, rarely a week went past where some gift or another was presented to her. It had become the normal, and the inner-spoilt-princess inside of Harleen adored the attention and the reciprocation of affection.

She gently lifted the rose as if it would disintegrate in her hands, and breathed its scent in, a smile creeping over her lips. _This is wrong,_ the logical voice on her left said. _This is unprofessional. There is an unhealthy attachment involved here, and its going to kill you._  

Harleen sighed, and then the chirpy voice on her right kicked in. _Shut up. Its what I want. I want him. I want love._

She placed the rose in her coffee cup, the only vase she could come up with in her sparse office, and she slumped into her seat. With the two voices it was getting harder each day to think straight, and she knew she was coming undone. What was it Joker always told her? All it takes is one bad day….

Harleen wondered where this relationship would take her. Sure, in the confines of Arkham it was simple enough; he was restrained and she had access to no less than three panic buttons and four guards obediently stood outside her door. She could do and say what she pleased and Joker wouldn’t touch her. Except she knew she was lying to herself. The Joker can and had broken out of the Asylum when he felt like it, and he had even slipped out of his restraints on multiple occasions, just to fuck with her sense of security.

Her reverie was interrupted by a knock on her door, and she cleared her throat, telling the voices to behave. One sighed and the other giggled, and she refocused herself on her visitor. It was Dr Joan Leland, her supervisor, and one of the nicest psychiatrists in the whole Asylum.

“Hello, Harleen-” Joan trailed off, eyes narrowing as she studied the young doctor. Harleen immediately felt on edge, and she sat up straight.

“What’s wrong? Do I have something on my shirt?”

“No, it’s just…. You look different. I can’t put my finger on it, you just seem strange. Everything okay?” Harleen snorted. Joan wasn’t known for her tact, and it was one of the things Harleen appreciated about her most. If there was an issue, Joan was forthright about it, and it was resolved near instantly. On this occasion, however, Harleen took it a little personally.

“Gee, thanks. My self-esteem needed that boost today,” she muttered, studying her nails. Joan sighed.

“I didn’t mean that, Harleen. I’m just concerned. I do have a medical degree, you know. I’m also pretty good with my gut. Something isn’t right. I don’t want it interfering with your work.” Harleen dropped her hand to the oak desk before her with a little unnecessary force.

“I’m fine. Neighbour kept me awake last night, that’s all.” She snapped.

“Fine, forget it. My apologies.” Harleen knew she didn’t mean it.

“I’m just wondering how things are going with The Joker. You’ve kept to yourself recently.”

Harleen gritted her teeth. This was a conversation she wasn’t prepared to have.

“It’s going well, actually. I’m beginning to get somewhere with his obsession with Batman. I think it may be linked to traumatic childhood. He still won’t go into details, but I believe something bad happened to him as a child that made him feel like he failed at being a hero. When The Dark Knight emerged, that childhood trauma re-emerged.” _Lies_ , the logical voice hissed in her ear. _All_ _lies_.

Joan seemed impressed, and her head pulled back as she took the information in.

“It’s all in my reports, Joan, if you don’t believe me.” Harleen knew she had, but it didn’t hurt to reinforce her lies. Just for protection.

“No no, I believe you. I’m just super impressed, Harleen. No one has ever gotten past three sessions with him. You make me believe we might actually have a shot at curing him.” _Not a chance_. Harleen smirked at the chirpy, sarcastic voice.

“I hope so, Joan. He really is intelligent, and quite creative when he puts his mind to it. There’s so much potential there. It would be such a shame to waste it.” Harleen couldn’t help wondering if she meant that he was wasting it locked up in here, rather than wasting it on criminal activity.

Joan said her goodbyes and left, seemingly satisfied with Harleen's progress. The moment the door closed behind her, Harleen slumped down again, all the energy leaving her body. Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up. The name made her feel sick, and she her eyes began to sting.

**Hey you. How are things? I hope you don’t change your number so soon this time. - Jason**

She dropped her phone with a clatter on the desk, hands trembling. She shut her eyes and began to focus on her breathing, and calming her heart rate. She thought to The Joker, to the session she would be having with him in no less than twenty minutes, and how she could not afford to mess it up or appear weak by being an anxious mess. Repress it, if you need to, she told herself. Deal with it later, when you’re alone. She grabbed her notebook and pen and made her way to the therapy room, not caring that she was early. The office had now become an uncomfortable space for her.

The young doctor tapped her scarlet fingernails on the rusty metal table beneath her and watched as the clock ticked by the seconds. After what felt like an hour, she could hear The Joker’s pointless chatter floating through the halls, accompanied by the occasional “Shut up, clown” and various other threats the guards like to utter. She really didn’t like them- she found their behaviour to be repulsively barbaric.

“Morning, toots!” The Joker exclaimed, a grin nearly splitting his cheeks in half. She smiled back but the repressive feeling of anxiety was creeping in on her, like shadows on the walls, beginning to constrict her. She was beginning to have doubts if this session was a good idea.

“Good Morning, Mr. J,” Harleen replied, professional as ever whilst the guards placed him in his chair. “How are you feeling? Are you eating and sleeping okay since our last session?” The guards slammed the door shut behind them.

“I’m finer than wine, Harley-kins. You, however, are another story entirely. I _love_ stories. Do tell, what has my dear little doctor in a tizz?” Harleen’s eyes narrowed. _Perceptive bastard._

“It’s a personal matter, Mr. J. I can’t-”

“You’re scared.” The Joker said. It wasn’t a question, or even an opinion. Just a matter of fact, the utterance of which was now up to Harleen to decide how to proceed with. Deciding it may benefit her to tell him about it, she sighed, dropping the facade she barely wore anyway. Her shoulders slumped and she found her fingers rubbing deep circles into her forehead.

“I don’t really know how to even say it.”

“Why not begin with what upset you today,” The Joker said, helpfully. His expression was plain, and his eyes were bright. He seemed in a good mood, and she didn’t know why.

“I received a text.” Harleen said, eyes falling to her blank notebook. She started counting the lines on the pages, feeling the impending anxiety looming over her. Her hands were trembling and so she stuffed them under her bottom, sitting on them. Hopefully when the pins and needles kicked in, it would distract her. The Joker raised his eyebrows, encouraging her to continue.

“From Jason,” she fought to keep her voice steady. “My mom’s husband. And I suppose, by extension, my biological dad.”

“You suppose?” The Joker echoed, interest making him lean forward. He was analysing her, but she didn’t care. She was more concerned with not letting her fear sink her into the ground below, and remembering to breathe.

“He’s a very, very bad man.” Harleen whispered, voice cracking as tears began to fall across her cheeks.

“So am I, dollface. You seem to like me enough.” He added, helpfully, trying to inject humour into the situation. His voice was uncharacteristically soft and Harleen invited it, looking for comfort. What she wouldn’t give to have that feeling. However, she also suspected he had already guessed where this was going, if he hadn’t already figured it out previously, and was for whatever reason looking for her to say it aloud.

“I left home at sixteen and moved in with a friend. I couldn’t take another night… of living with that monster, and so I never looked back. He would sneak into my room at night, when mom was knocked out drunk in the bedroom next door. He’d catch me in the shower. I watched the blood disappear down the drain. I still wake up at night feeling his hands over my mouth-” She couldn’t finish, tears now spilling over with reckless abandon. It was all she could take to not sob, and she couldn’t see the lines on the notebook anymore. She didn’t dare look at him, ashamed of her weakness and worried about what expression would be on his face.

“Look at me, Harley.” He commanded. She shook her head.

“Why?” His tone was patient, but she knew it had a limit. “Because I’m ashamed.”

“What have you got to be ashamed of?” He asked, surprised. It sounded genuine, and she felt encouraged. She meekly lifted her head a little, daring to spare him a glance. He looked concerned, eyebrows furrowed, and she felt relieved that he seemed to take this seriously.

“I’m weak.” He laughed bitterly, stomping his feet. He was not amused in the slightest, and Harleen's skin crawled as she realised the danger she had inadvertently put herself in by saying the wrong thing.  _Stupid Harleen._

“You’re weak? Are you sure the spineless _cunt_ that crept into the bedroom of his infant daughter to get his rocks off isn’t the weak one? The one who, by the sounds of it, continues to stalk his own child instead of going out and finding someone who will give him their consent? But yes, pumpkin, you’re the weak one around here.” His tone was venomous and she flinched, but she also knew that this wasn’t aimed at her; it was aimed at the monster who had lived in her closet for her whole life.

“They call me a monster, yet men like him roam the Earth. All I'm trying to do is make the world a better place!" He exclaimed, becoming more animated. "I hate that he’s done this to you,” he continued. “He dared touch my Harley, and hurt her. He’ll pay.” He promised. His eyes were cold and hard and Harley realised she wasn’t crying anymore. She suddenly felt safe, and like she wasn’t alone, and a small flicker of hope flared in her chest.

“He won’t leave me alone,” she admitted. “I’ve changed my number a billion times and he keeps tracking me down. I’ve caught him following me home too. It’s only a matter of time before he tries something bad.”

“I’m the last person to give you advice on dealing with criminals, but why haven’t you gone to the good old cops about this?” He asked.

“Because I don’t have a lot of faith in the GCPD. They won’t be able to help. They can’t prove anything. It was so long ago now. They’d have to strap me to a mind-reader to get anywhere close to a conviction.” The Joker’s eyes glimmered, and he nodded in agreement.

“You are very right, pumpkin. The GCPD can’t help you. But I can. I’ll keep you safe. You have my word.” His tone was earnest and his eyes were wide and bright, and Harleen hadn’t realised she was leaning forward, eyes as wide as his.

“I’ll kill him, and bring you his head. You can wear it as a crown as you rule Gotham by my side. I promise.” Harleen grinned. _The Joker loves me._ And like the flick of a switch, she knew she'd made her choice. She would follow him anywhere. After all, with Jason's re-emergence in her life, today had turned out to be a pretty bad day.


End file.
